


loving you (is the only thing I know how to do)

by echoesofstardust



Series: how many ways can I love you? [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Oblivious Pining, indulgent characterisations, watch me ignore everything that's happened since november
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoesofstardust/pseuds/echoesofstardust
Summary: how to fall out of lovea step-by-step guide by tessa virtue





	loving you (is the only thing I know how to do)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: step-by-step process partly taken from http://www.artofwellbeing.com/2017/02/17/outoflove/
> 
> So, I've been working on this fic for a while and I've finally finished it. It's honestly me indulging myself in my favourite tropes of oblivious pining and the dash of angst but mostly fluff that comes with that. Maybe some of you guys might also want to read it?
> 
> I hope the new year has been treating you well <3

Here’s the thing about Tessa Virtue: she’s a self-aware woman. 

She knows what mood she’s currently in, what part of her body is currently aching, what sweet treat she’s currently craving, what she needs to do next so that her body can recover properly. It’s hard to be an elite athlete without being in tune with your body.

Tessa Virtue is a self-aware woman, and she knows she’s in love with one Scott Moir.

There. She’s admitted it. She knows it.

It’s—everything. Yet nothing at all. It’s as monumental as her every heartbeat, as her every breath. Each heartbeat and breath keeps her alive. Yet each heartbeat and breath happens every second of every minute of every day. And being in love with Scott is a fact about herself that’s as ingrained and intertwined with the bones of her being as the fact that her heart beats and her lungs breathe.

She looks at him and sometimes the feeling of wanting is too _too_ much. She feels it spread from her chest to her fingertips, brimming and shaking, like if she reaches out to hug him (which, with Scott being a naturally tactile person, is a lot), her love for him leaps from her body to his.

She wonders if it hurts when it hits his skin. Cupid’s mischief was always embodied by arrows—would her affection for Scott pierce his body in the same way?

She wouldn’t know. Whenever she’s around him, his mouth is always smiling, whether quirked into a smirk, split into a grin, or soft at the edges.

She loves him. He loves her too, she knows that.

Just not in the same way.

And that’s okay! When she reminisces on their twenty-one year partnership, she realises one of the ways they hurt each other the most when they expected more than what the other could give.

She’ll always love him. But it doesn’t always have to be this expectant, greedy thing.

Tessa takes a deep breath and makes up her mind.

She’s going to fall out of love with Scott.

 

_1\. Allow yourself the indulgence of being hung up on them (for a while)._

It’s a bright, sunlit morning when Tessa lets herself think of every facet of Scott that she loves. Internally, she wonders and worries whether this is going to be productive in the long run but—she needs it.

She needs to think about the way his hair curls just so when it’s long enough, the softness of the strands when she tangles her hands and runs her fingertips along them. 

She needs to think about his eyes, how even after twenty-one years, she can’t pinpoint the exact colour that they are. She’s read some of the comments after that Olympic interview where she called his eyes brown and people insisted that they were hazel. But his eyes had never stuck to one shade. 

The only constant is the way they always met hers during every practice, on every podium, after every ending pose, how his eyes always reassure her of who she is to him, who he is to her: each other’s partner. 

She needs to think about how his eyes were an unfathomable, beautiful depth she wants to drown in.

She needs to think about his hands, the largeness and the warmth, the callouses and the smoothness. The way her hand had learned to fit in his. 

She thinks of fairytales where the moment the girl meets the boy, the princess meets the prince, and they just _know_. Their hands and their hearts and their lives just somehow fit perfectly. She and Scott weren’t like that. Their hands weren’t some interlocking puzzle pieces that just fit the first time they held hands on the ice.

It was their twenty-one years together, every subsequent handhold shaping their hands like constant drops of water shapes a rock face, that now their hands come together and fit in a movement as natural and effortless as breathing.

She needs to think of his heart. To think of how many heartbeats she’s felt under her palm, the steady rhythm, the staccato flutter when they press too close. His heart that overflows with love for his family and for his home in Ilderton. His heart that he wears on his sleeve, like it’s embroidered on the arm of every piece of clothing, that touches each person fortunate enough to be in his arms.

She needs to—

The doorbell rings.

Tessa walks over to the door, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear—she must look a mess, barely awake—and opens it.

And sees Scott.

No, this isn’t part of the plan!

She needs to think of every facet of him that she loves, like every petal on a flower, then slowly pluck each petal off until she’s not in love with him anymore. That was the plan.

His presence here isn’t going to help. He’s gonna remind her of every single thing that she wants to forget. She wants to forget for a while, then she’ll pick up each petal again, rearrange it into something less romantic than a flower held out for the person she loves.

Scott grins at her, hair still mussed. Her lips quirk upwards in response. Who is she kidding? She’ll always be happy to see him.

“Hi T!” She’ll never understand how he can be so _alive_ in the mornings. He holds two cups in front of him. “I passed by the cafe that you like and thought I’d buy you coffee.”

 _No_ , her heart moans, _please don’t be sweet and thoughtful and caring. How am I meant to get over you?_

She must have been gaping for a while. Scott cocks his head, “Tess? You gonna let me in?”

She blinks. Once, twice, thrice. “Of course, sorry. I must’ve spaced out. Guess I really need that coffee, huh?”

Scott laughs, quick and sharp and bright. He hands her one of the coffee cups, then wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple.

Her traitorous heart has the audacity to _fucking flutter_ at that action.

“Have you had breakfast yet, Tess?” Scott asks, as he’s making his way to her kitchen.

Tessa follows him, taking a sip from the cup. It’s sweet, but not overly so. The warmth spreads throughout her body, down to the fingertips and the tips of her toes. Trust Scott to give her a drink she wants before she knows she wants it.

“I guess not,” he says once he gets there, surveying the lack of food and cooking utensils. He starts rooting through her fridge and her cupboards. “At least you have food!” He throws her another grin, “Pancakes? You’ve got chocolate chips.”

Tessa wants to scream. Or cry. Or kiss him.

None of the three seem like any reasonable options, so she settles for a smile and sits on a bar stool at her kitchen counter, “Sure, Scott. That’ll be great.”

She watches Scott easily manoeuvre his way around her kitchen, humming some tune under his breath, cooking her pancakes. He piles a massive stack of them on one plate, melts a chunk of butter on top, sprinkles it with more chocolate chips.

He takes a fork and a knife out from her cutlery drawer and places the plate down in between them. He cuts a sizeable piece and holds it in front of Tessa’s mouth.

“Open up, T,” he smiles. Tessa lets him feed her, the sweetness bursting like a firework her mouth. It’s _so_ _good._ A moan escapes her throat.

“Good, yeah?” Scott smirks. She wants to wipe that smirk off his face, but he’s right.

She smiles weakly at him. “Yeah.”

His smile softens. He takes a bite of his own. Tessa watches his lips touch the fork where her own lips had wrapped around it. Imagines his lips touching her own instead.

She is so screwed.

 

_2\. Write them a letter (don’t send it)._

Tessa makes sure that Scott’s away when she decides to write the letter. She can’t risk him catching her writing out her feelings for him. The thought of it makes her want to burn with mortification.

So she waits until he says he’s heading home for a week before she takes out a pen and a notepad.She’s not gonna risk this by typing it up.

It’s late at night, and she’s been staring at the blank piece of paper for probably far too long. She’s poised her pen upright then put it down then picked it up again too many times to count.

How does she begin?

 _Dear Scott_. Okay, she writes that. Now what?

 _I am catastrophically in love with you._ Nope. Too dramatic.

 _I love you most ardently._ Calm down, Mr Darcy.

She blows out a breath and collapses backward on her bed. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess, like an entangled ball of yarn that’s knotted and fraying and she can’t find where it begins. She’s always found it easiest to express her thoughts through movement, whether that’s skating on or dancing off ice. Writing is a challenge.

She sits back up again, picks up the pen, and tries not to think as hard. Tries to let the words flow.

_Dear Scott,_

_I don’t know where to begin this letter, especially since I know you’re not going to read it, but I think I’m going to pretend that I’m actually writing to you because I feel like I’m going to find it easier._

_It’s probably easiest if I cut to the chase, yeah? I’m in love with you._

_I can’t say when I started Scott. I can’t pinpoint the exact moments when I knew I had fallen. I read this quote on Instagram once, it went something like, ‘Maybe falling in love with you is as natural as breathing. I did it completely subconsciously and once I noticed I was doing it, I realised I’d been doing it all along.’_

_And that’s what it was like for me. It’s like one day I turned to you on the ice and both everything and nothing has changed. Everything changed because I’d realised my heart wasn’t mine anymore. It had become yours, whole and entire. Nothing changed because I wondered whether my heart was ever mine to begin with anyway. I think it might have been only ever been yours._

_I’m sorry, I guess. I’m sorry not because I love you, but because I realise now that there were times when how I felt towards you made me resent you for not returning it._

_You’re my best friend, kiddo. We’ve both made mistakes but you’re the best partner that I could’ve asked for. You’re driven and passionate and dedicated. Kind and thoughtful and good. Funny and goofy and sweet. And you’ve stuck by me._

_I’m never going to stop loving you. I’m just going to change the way in which I do. Since you’re never gonna read this, I’ll admit I’ve had dreams where I’m in a wedding dress walking down an aisle toward you and you look so happy to see me and oh god I’m tearing up. Shit. I’ll always dream of being beside you for the rest of my life, but I guess how the dream looks like just needs to change._

_Maybe we are eighty-something-year-olds and watching Jeopardy together, but your wife will be there with us as well, y’know? Maybe I’ll be married too, some other guy, but since my heart’s still currently and inconveniently yours, it’s hard to picture that future. I want to know I’ll always have you in my life, Scott. I want you to know I’m gonna try my damn hardest to always stay in yours. I hope you don’t mind._

Ping. She glances at her phone. It’s too far to see who’s texted her. She goes back to writing

_This letter is meant to be the second step in me falling out of love with you._

Ping.

_You know me. This is just another goal I’m working towards. I know I’m gonna achieve it. I wasn’t a three-time Olympic Gold medallist for nothing._

_It might take some time Scott. But I’m gonna do it. For you._

Ping. Ping.

She puts her pen down, unsure if the letter’s finished. She picks up her phone.

And sees 4 unread messages from Scott.

She’s tempted to ignore it. Falling out of love with Scott should involve detoxifying her life from reminders of him. But she can’t bring herself to ignore her best friend.

It’s probably just a typical, nice ‘how are you?’ message. Friendly. Platonic. She’ll be fine.

She taps on the message notification. The first message is a photo attachment of Scott with one of his nieces snuggled in his lap, both grinning at the camera, hands raised in a wave.

Fuck. Did you hear that sound?That was the sound of her ovaries exploding.

 _Hi Tess_ , the next message reads.

_both of us were missing auntie T!_

_so we wanted to say hi_

She smiles at the adorable smile of Scott’s niece, how she looks like she’s about to break out into a laugh. Scott had a tendency to do that. She stares at the photo, looks at the mini Moir that Scott’s cradling. He’s gonna have one of those soon, she knows. He had freely spoken to her about his desire for a family in the near future, even before he said that on Anastasia’s podcast.

She whimpers. Here, in the quietness of her bedroom, she lets herself admit how much she wants to be the woman to give him that, to be his partner in yet another way, to give love, so much love, to a kid that’s half him and half her. She tucks her knees up, one of her arms wrapped around her midsection.

 _hi Charlotte!_ , she texts back, _auntie T misses you too sweetheart!_ She adds the pink heart emoji.

Another ping sounds immediately after.

 _what about me? don’t you miss me?_ She can already picture his exaggerated pout.

 _maybe a little bit_ , she texts back, exasperatedly rolling her eyes. Actually, she misses him more than she can describe, but he’s not gonna know that.

 _I miss you too kiddo. wish you were here_ , is his reply.

His next message is a photo of the whole Moir clan, followed by, _we all do_.

Tessa looks at the photo, looks at Scott and Alma and Joe and Charlie and Danny and all of the kids. The funny thing is she can picture herself slotting in that photo, tucked beside Alma with Scott’s arm around her. She’s been there before. They’re as much her family as her actual one.

She looks at the letter. _It might take some time Scott. But I’m gonna do it. For you._

The goal seems almost impossible. She’ll just have to work harder then.

 

_3\. Stop giving them so much attention._

Tessa dreads this.

She dreads that if she stops talking to Scott, stops texting, stops responding to his texts, stops letting him in to her apartment at the random times he knocks, he’ll start to think she hates him.

She doesn’t want that. The thought of losing Scott made her feel physically sick.

But she still needs to do it, so she calls the person she always goes to for advice.

“Jordan, I need help.”

Her sister groans at the other end. “Tess, did you burn your kitchen down again?”

“That was one time! Are you never gonna let me live that down?” Scott had saved her from burning her entire apartment down anyway.

“Nope. Never. Who burns down their kitchen from boiling water?”

“Thanks so much, Jojo. Love you too.”

“You’re welcome. What did you need help with anyway?”

“I’ve decided to fall out of love with Scott.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then her sister guffaws.

“Tess,” Jordan has to pause through her wheezing, “we’ve been here in this exact conversation before when you were eight. And thirteen. And nineteen. And twenty three.” She sobers and stops laughing, her voice a bit gentler, “If it hadn’t worked then, what makes you think it’ll work now?”

There’s a pause on both ends of the phone call.

“I just—don’t want to love him anymore. Like that,” Tessa says.

“What do you mean like ‘that’?”

“Like—like—” Tessa sighs, “like I want to be in a white dress and him in a black tux waiting at the end of the aisle, like I want to spend every Christmas and birthday and Canada Day with him, like I want to have kids that have his eyes and his hair and his nose and his laugh.” She tries to breathe, but it comes out shaky, with the effort of suppressed tears. “It’s too much, Jordan,” she chokes out, “it’s too much and I can’t be greedy. We’ve given each other so much of ourselves already.”

There’s dampness on the apples of her cheeks. Tessa stops. She knows that while Jordan is one of the people who know her the most, the deluge of dreams and wishes that’s just cascaded from her lips is more than anything she’s ever shared out loud.

“Tess,” Jordan’s voice is impossibly gentle, “have you considered that it’s not too much?” _Have you even talked to him?_ is the unspoken question.

Tessa doesn’t know how to answer that.

So she doesn’t.

“I need to have some space away from him, I know that,” she gnaws on her bottom lip. It’s probably going to hurt, but what’s worse is—

“What if he thinks I hate him when I ask for space?” Tessa asks, eyes closed shut, as if doing so will block the possibility of her worst nightmare.

Jordan sighs heavily on the other end. Tessa knows it’s because of her blatant and not-at-all subtle sidestep of her question, “Tessa, I don’t think that boy can ever hate you. Just—talk to him, please?”

But what if she does? What if she talks to him and all these dreams and wishes and _wanting_ falls from her lips into his hands that aren’t ready for them?

She fears it’ll break the best thing in her life.

She doesn’t answer her sister. “Thanks Jojo,” she says instead, “for listening.”

Her sister hmmphs and sighs, “Okay, Tess. You know I’m always here. I love you. And please talk to Scott before you make any decisions, okay?”

“Love you too,” Tessa ends the call.

She’s just going to have to do it. Like a band-aid being ripped off and all that.

But here’s the thing Tessa didn’t expect. Scott seemed know exactly what she wanted and gave her space. It almost seemed like he disappeared from her life completely.

She hadn’t realised how ingrained he was.

Suddenly, there’s no random ‘good morning’ or ‘look at this puppy I saw’ text messages that ping on her phone. There’s no spontaneous knocks at her door that sound at any given interval during the day (except the early morning, because Scott knew not to disturb Tessa before she was fully human). There’s no more cups of those delicious cups of whatever new concoction he bought at the cafe.

Tessa swears to herself it’s fine. She got what she wanted right? The space will allow herself to get over him. She’s got this.

But she doesn’t. She knows she doesn’t. She’s a strong, independent woman but—

Every time her phone received a notification, she’d checked it, thinking it might be him.

Every time she thinks she hears footsteps walking past her apartment door, she paused whatever she was doing, hoping it’d be him.

Every time she was out, at the gym, the grocery store, walking around the block, she was alert and hyper-aware, wanting to see him.

It frustrates her—how much she seems tuned in to the frequency of his presence. And she hasn’t detected him for at least a week now.

She’s tried to take her mind off the gnawing emptiness within her by ordering some novels that had been sitting on her to-read list for probably years at this point.

When someone knocks at her door, she assumes it’s the delivery of her books. She’s looking forward to sinking into someone else’s world, she thinks as she turns the door handle. Maybe it will take her mind off of—

—Scott. It’s Scott, there waiting at her door. He’s smiling softly, a bit sheepishly. “Hi T. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you at all this week—oofff.“ The puff of air escapes him in a quick whoosh, as Tessa throws her body at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his form. She buries her face in his shoulder, somewhat embarrassed by the impulsiveness of her actions. She feels her cheeks warm.

His arms come up to wrap as tightly around her. “Oh, T,” his murmur is a soft caress against her earlobe, “I’m so sorry. It’s just I lost my phone and I’ve been so busy at the rink because of all the comps coming up and I know it’s not really an excuse and I hope you’ll forgive me—“

“Scott.” His name escapes her in a plaintive whimper.

He stops speaking, and somehow hugs her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Tess.”

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Scott’s the first to pull back, “Let’s go inside, T, yeah?” As he steps back, her hands fall down towards his chest. Her fingers bunch at the fabric of his T-shirt.

She tells herself she has to let go. She does.

Scott grabs her hand and seamlessly navigates the hallways to her living room and pulls her to her couch. He sits down and brings his legs up and tugs her down, gently guiding her to sit in front of him. Hazily, she remembers that she had promised herself she won’t give him as much attention, but the shock at seeing Scott hit her like a punch and left her more than a bit dazed. She curls up against him, her hands bunching up the fabric of his T-shirt again.

She’s failing her step-by-step process. She’s self-aware enough to know that. But she can’t quite bring herself to care.

“I should probably explain what an idiot I’ve been, eh, T?” She feels herself start to relax into him. It takes her a moment to realise it’s from his hand stroking her hair, up and down, up and down.

“It started with me forgetting my phone at my parents’ house the last time I was there. Remember me and Charlotte sending you that photo of us? I must have dropped it at some point, and not realised that I had lost it because you know me, I’m not the most tech-savvy person. That was the first idiotic thing.

“The second idiotic thing is the fact that I did this during the busiest week for the juniors at the rink. Tess, I love them, I really do, but this close to their comps and there’s still so much to do—I can maybe count on one hand the number of proper meals I’ve had this week.”

Tessa’s head snaps up sharply, “Scott, you need to take care of yourself too.” She holds his gaze, pleading with him. His hand moves from her hair to cup her cheek.

“I know, I know. I hadn’t realised how hectic being a coach was actually going to be. I’m going to do better, I swear. Anyway, the third idiotic thing I did, Tess, was not come see you.” He bends down, almost absentmindedly, to brush his lips against her forehead. “I hadn’t even realised I had lost my phone until I wanted to text you about one of my teams nailing their lift. And then I realised I hadn’t seen you all week. I’m so sorry, T. I hope you don’t think I haven’t been ignoring you. Well, maybe you hadn’t really noticed I was gone, eh? It was just me and my co-dependency,” he laughs at that, but the sound seemed sadder than what a laugh is meant to sound like.

“I did notice,” Tessa’s words are soft and sombre, “I missed you.” She searches for his eyes, coaxing them to meet hers, to see the truth of her words.

She waits until she sees hazel, amber, brown. “I missed you,” she says again.

“I missed you too. Can I stay and make you dinner?”

To follow her plan, Tessa knows she should say no.

“Yes, please,” she smiles.

 

_4\. Double check that you haven’t got too much time on your hands._

She adds another yoga and another pilates class to her schedule. Wednesdays at 5 pm and Sundays at 10 am. She tells herself that maybe she won’t miss Scott as much if her time’s taken up. There’s a few more photoshoots added as well for several of her sponsors and she says yes to an interview.

She’s got this.

Until she doesn’t.

She makes it through one week of her new exercise schedule when Scott shows up at her door on Sunday at half past 9, just as she’s leaving for pilates.

“Hey Tess!” He’s grinning brightly. Tessa had never been a morning person, never quite liked the way the sun shone so blazingly so early. But there’s something about Scott’s grin, no matter how bright and blinding it is, that makes her want to bask in its warmth.

There’s a fleeting thought in her head about how it’s the one thing she’ll happily and willingly wake up to but she shuts it down quickly. Not the time, Tessa.

“Hi Scott.” Her greeting’s more subdued, but she still feels her mouth unwittingly curving up into a smile. “What are you doing here?”

Scott scratches the back of his neck and keeps his hand there. “Uhhh, you mentioned last night that you had pilates this morning, and I was wondering if you’d let me join you?”

Tessa blinked in surprise. No, no, no, no. Not part of the plan. Not part of the plan. Not part of the plan, Virtue.

Still, she remembered the consequence of fully separating Scott from her life. It’s like being pulled away from him is like stretching a rubber band. The more she pulls, the harder it was going to hit her when she snaps back and sees him again.

“Sure, Scott.” It would be nice to spend a day working out with him again, like how they used to when they were skating.

There’s another fleeting thought about how if she strategically positioned herself and Scott just so in her pilates class she’d afford herself a wonderful view of some of Scott’s certain attributes. Especially if she was behind him.

She tries to quash the thought. She fails.

Scott reaches out for her hand that’s dangling by her side and slots their fingers loosely together. He locks her door and pulls it closed. He squeezes her hand. “Ready for me to be better than you at this, Virtch?” The teasing is accompanied by his trademark smirk.

She arches one of her eyebrows. “You wish, Moir.”

Tessa’s thankful for the familiar banter. She can concentrate on being his best friend, you know, platonic and all that jazz.

But then Scott swings their intertwined hands forward and loops it across her body, passing his arm over her head, resting their hands on her shoulder. Tessa’s stomach jolts as she realises it’s a very, uh, couple-y way to walk. “I know you’ll always be better, T,” he presses a quick kiss to her temple, “just let me try anyway, yeah?”

Tessa’s brain shortcircuits. She composes herself enough to drive them down to the studio. The session passes by with no hiccups, Scott managing to charm Jeanine, the warm and motherly lady who runs the class, and Tessa losing herself to the movements led by the instructor. 

As Tessa chatted to Jeanine at the end of the session, Jeanine remarks how it’s nice of her partner to come with her.

Tessa’s eyes wander over to Scott. “Yeah, it really is. We haven’t done anything like this in a while.”

Jeanine chuckles. “I know I appreciate it when my partner comes along to my classes. Pilates isn’t really her thing, but she indulges me sometimes. I love her for it.”

Tessa’s about to say _Oh, you have a skating partner too?_ but then she realises that Jeanine’s talking about her _partner_ -partner. Like a romantic-stylez type of partner.

There’s a bunch of words tripping over each other on the tip of her tongue in her rush to correct Jeanine, but before any of them can make their way out, Scott’s back at her side, his arm around her waist. He squeezes her lightly before his hand travels up her back—it’s a fight to stop the shiver—resting at her neck, thumb rubbing softly at her skin there.

Tessa’s smart enough to know that the whole gesture screams ‘couple’ to the ordinary layperson, even though this sort of tactility has become the norm in her and Scott’s friendship. Any sort of denial is most definitely futile.

“Thanks so much for your class, Jeanine,” Scott affably grins. He turns to Tessa, “Ready to go, T?”

“Yeah,” she smiles weakly. She wonders how obvious her affection for Scott is to someone from the outside like Jeanine.

Too obvious if the knowing look Jeanine shoots her is anything to go by.

By the time she’s back in her apartment, heart and mind and body still buzzing from being with Scott, she tries to calm herself down by reassuring herself that it’s probably a one-off occurrence. She’s packed her schedule. Her greediness towards Scott’s company should be quashed by only interacting with him through text messages, maybe a phone call if she wants to indulge herself.

There’s a saying about best laid plans, though. They often go astray.

There’s photoshoots she packed in her schedule, yes, but somehow Scott managed to find out (from Kelly, she later discovers) when and where they are and tags along to support her.

He had surprised her with a golden-retriever type of grin the first time, exclaiming a bright, “Surprise Tess!” but the utter shock of seeing him and the turmoil that plagued her as she realised that her plans are not working out left her stock-still.

She had stood there frozen, eyes opened too wide, for a beat too long because Scott’s grin had faltered. “Unless you don’t want me to be here? I’m sorry, I overstepped, I just wanted to support you but I think I went too far—” he had rambled, guiltily, eyes downcast but she had interrupted him with a hug.

She had held him for a while, had waited for his breathing to calm down before she had whispered, “No, it’s not too far. Thanks for being here Scott, I really appreciate it.” She had infused her words with every ounce of gratitude she had felt. Scott being here brings her back to that one Vogue photoshoot in Japan where he had tagged along to support her too.

That time in Japan was probably the closest she thought they’d been to falling over the precipice into something _more_ but nothing quite happened. There’s a giddy part her here and now too, but she steadfastly holds onto her plan of falling out of love with Scott.

The soft flutter of her heart whenever she looks at him now kind of _really_ needs to stop.

He had stood at the side, chatting with various staff, occasionally throwing her a supportive glance and smile.

It wasn’t until the tail-end of the shoot that the photographer had beckoned Scott over, asking if he wanted to join Tessa for some shots.

Scott had looked to Tessa for an answer. In a moment of impulsiveness, she nods gamely to both Scott and the photographer, dragging Scott by the hand to where they needed to be.

There’s a photo of them mid-lift, gazing into each other’s eyes, that breaks the internet when it was published. Tessa scrolls through the comments, all in some variation of shock that Scott was there at her shoot (she had been careful not to show him in any of her insta stories), and a gush about how cute they looked together.

She smiles at people’s hopefulness. Whenever she looks at the photos of the two of them, all she sees is the adoration and trust in her eyes. And love, if she’s being honest.

How is she going to succeed with her plan again?

 

_5\. Remove the blinkers._

Scott is flawed. Tessa knows that. Scott is flawed and she is too, because they’re both human. They’re both human with hearts that can hurt. But those same hearts can also heal and bring joy and triumph and love.

If asked to list off Scott’s flaws on each of her fingers, it would go something like this.

One, his temper. Definitely not so much now, but Tessa remembers his frustrations from when they were younger, frustrations that she would internalise herself because part of her always felt like it was her fault. 

Scott’s always been open with his emotions and freely expresses them, but therapy and counselling sessions over the years have helped the two of them communicate better. During the comeback, Scott still got frustrated occasionally, but he didn’t take it out on her anymore. He was quicker to verbalise what he found frustrating and more willing to find a solution or a compromise.

So, really, it’s not much of a flaw. She’s proud of how he’s sought to become the best version of himself, both as a skater and as a whole.

Two, his blind loyalty. The Sochi quad is the most prominent example that comes to mind. He really had faith that their coaches had their back as much as they had back in Vancouver. She really wanted to believe in it too, but her pragmatism didn’t let her ignore the little things that built up into a massive thing that imploded after.

She remembers the two of them after Sochi, lost and wandering, trying to find their purpose after the one thing they loved most in the world, skating, stopped loving them back.

But Tessa also remembers that it’s Scott’s loyalty that’s kept their partnership solid. She remembers her surgeries, how Scott had blindly stuck by her even when she thought herself that he was probably better off with another girl who didn’t have broken legs.

And the comeback would not have been possible without their loyalty to each other. So, not much of a flaw then, either.

Three, his habit of jumping into a serious relationship within a short timeframe of knowing the other person. Okay, maybe her current predicament over being in love with Scott is making her biased over his relationships with other women, yet his impulsiveness seems to manifest most spectacularly in his romantic endeavours.

She can recite the litany of names whose hearts had been taken and then broken, although not intentionally or maliciously, by Scott. Scott, who would always choose skating, first and foremost.

Plus, his serial monogamist tendencies most likely arise from his affectionate heart. He has a lot of love to give, practically overflows with it, so he bestows it on those who catch his eye.

His loving heart isn’t restricted to his paramours either. He has a lot of love to give his family—all the Moirs, his mom, his dad, his brothers, his cousins, his nieces, his nephews—to his mentors and coaches, to the little kids who ask him for an autograph and a photo.

And to her. She feels lucky to be loved by him, in whatever indefinable form that love takes. 

Four, he’s a morning person. She’s definitely biased about this, being the complete opposite and struggling to wake up at any time that’s early. His perkiness at ungodly hours can still irritate her even now.

But then she thinks about how his inclination towards the early morning helped her throughout the comeback, when he would drop by her apartment to make sure she was awake (she often wasn’t), holding a delicious cup of coffee that he’d reward her with as soon as they were out her door.

Five, his stubbornness. How many arguments had they gotten into, both small and big, because of his stubbornness? And her stubbornness as well, she might as well admit.

But she knows that it’s the same stubbornness from both of them that’s led them to all three of their Olympic gold medals. It’s the same stubbornness that’s kept them working on every detail and nuance of their routines, through pain and doubt from others, daring the judges not to put them first.

Listing all these facets of Scott just highlights to Tessa that these things she can think of as flaws, aren’t really flaws. They’re bits and pieces of Scott that can lead him to make mistakes, but are ultimately important parts that make up the whole, beautiful mosaic that is the Scott she knows and loves.

Tessa sighs, rests her head on her hands and rubs the heels of her palms on her eyes. She’s starting to admit defeat.

 

_6\. Discuss your feelings with an unbiased outsider._

The two of them are strolling around the streets of Montreal, hands tucked in coat pockets, elbows occasionally brushing, when Tessa breaks.

She’s too enraptured by the curve of his eyelashes and sharpness of his jawline that she misses everything that he’s said.

“Tess, kiddo, you okay? I lost you there for a second,” He frowns with concern. “You do seem a bit more distracted lately. Are you sleeping alright?”

_It’s because of you_ , Tessa wearily wants to say, _I’m distracted by you._

“Mmm, yeah, I’m alright,” she nods more to herself, “I’ve been sleeping as well as I can be.”

Scott pauses his steps and places a palm on Tessa’s elbow. “Anything else on your mind then? I’m willing to listen, if you want to share.” His mouth quirks up, “Only if you want to, though, no pressure.”

There’s something about his steady gaze that pulls the words out. “Well, there’s—there’s this guy.” Her words are stilted and stumbling.

Something flashes over Scott’s face, but it’s gone quicker than she can decipher it. His hand falls back down to his side, re-tucks itself into his coat pocket. He starts walking again, slowly, “Yeah? When did you meet? Is it at that café you like?”

“No, no, we met a bit further back than that,” Tessa bites the inside of her cheek. _More like two decades ago_ , she thinks.

The pair fall back into step with each other. “What’s he like, Tess?” Scott asks, voice almost impossibly soft.

_He’s you,_ is the simplest answer she can give, but an admission like that is something you can’t take back, and the thought of losing things like this, quiet walks through this city they both love, is too much.

“He’s—“ she takes a while searching for something eloquent and articulate to say, but she can’t express it any clearer than saying, “He’s everything. He’s my everything.”

“Oh.” Scott stops in his tracks again, “Oh. That’s something, T.” He scrunches his nose, rubs it with the back of his hand. He looks at her, then. She sees his throat bob. “He makes you happy, kiddo?”

She gives the only answer she can give to that question. “Yes. More than anything.”

“Oh.” Scott blinks hard. “I guess that’s all I can ask for. But the second he does you wrong, you’ll tell me, right? I have no doubt that you can kick his ass, but I’ll be there for backup, yeah?” He chuckles, although it sounds just a tad too forced.

He begins to turn away, scratching at the bridge of his nose, “Oh, and Tess, I just remembered that I needed to do something for…for the junior teams, yeah. There’s an…itinerary that needs to be sorted out, yeah. I’ll see you soon, T.”

He gives her an awkward wave and walks briskly away from her then, back down the path from where they came. She stares at his retreating back, unable to shake the feeling that something just went wrong, terribly wrong.

She stands frozen for too long, though. He disappears around the corner quicker than she could have anticipated.

 

_7\. Fall in love with someone new. (or not new, I guess_ )

She stands before his apartment door. There’s an uneasiness in her chest at how she and Scott had parted earlier that evening and she’s learned enough over the years to not sidestep it.

She knocks three times, and takes a deep breath.

Scott opens the door. His hair is slightly mussed, his chest clad in a soft, worn T-shirt. Tessa knows that if she leans in and inhales it, it will smell exactly like him.

“Hi.” She says.

“Hi.” They look at each other.

Tessa clears her throat. “Um, can I come in?”

Scott startles, flustered, and gestures her inside, “Of course, T, come in, sorry.”

When Tessa steps into his apartment, homey and cosy and so utterly Scott, the first thing that hits her is the smell of steak and potatoes cooking. Oh. That’s Scott’s comfort food. Something _had_ gone terribly wrong during their conversation.

She sits down at his kitchen counter, watches the lean muscles of his back as he finishes preparing his meal at the stove.

She taps her fingers on the tabletop, wondering how to breach the conversation. She wracks her brain for anything that she had said.

Then it hits her. It’s not what she’s said. It’s what she’s implied. Oh god. Scott knows. Scott knows she’s in love with him.

She looks at the dish that he’s preparing, one that she knows he makes when things are changing in a way that makes him uncomfortable, one that he eats because it reminds him of home and his family.

“You know.” Tessa breathes softly.

Scott turns off the stove and turns toward her. There’s a soft, wan smile on his face. “Yeah, Tess, I know.” He sets his plate down and pats her hand, “It’s okay."

_Is it though?_ she wonders. She feels the greediness, the hunger, the wanting deep in her. She wonders if he’ll be able to forgive her for wanting too much. “I’m sorry, Scott.”

“No, no, kiddo, don’t be sorry. I want you to be happy,” he takes her hand and holds it between both of his own, “I want you to be happy with whoever makes you happiest, yeah? You’re my best friend.” His gaze darts quickly away from hers, then comes back again. “I’m sorry for walking out on you today. I just—“ he falters then, unable to complete his sentence.

There’s a sort of lightness, a sense of relief that overtakes Tessa then. Scott knows she’s in love with him, but he’s still here. Maybe their friendship can survive this minefield of Tessa’s feelings.

“So you know that I’m—” Tessa begins.

“It’s just that I’m—” Scott starts.

“—in love with you.” They both finish, at the same time, in sync even now.

Tessa’s eyes widen in surprise. The same shocked expression is painted across Scott’s.

“You’re in love with me?” Tessa whispers in wonder.

“Yeah,” Scott brings her hand up to his lips and brushes it against his mouth. “I love you, Tessa. I kinda thought I was obvious enough, though, and I was scared I was demanding too much of your time and company.”

“You love me?” There’s an incredulity to Tessa’s tone, not quite believing.

“Yes, I do. It’s kind of hard not to, kiddo. You’re my everything.” He echoes her earlier words, a knowing glint in his eye, but his smile is bashful and bright.

“I love you,” she finally lets herself say. “I love you so much.”

He comes around his kitchen counter to where she’s sitting and wraps his arms around her. She lets herself melt into his hug and there’s tears on her cheeks when she pulls back to look at him. 

“Why are you crying, Tess?” His thumbs brush underneath her eyelids, catching at the teardrops there.

She cups his hand and turns to kiss his palm. “I’m just happy. I didn’t think I could have—this.”

“Neither did I,” Scott’s voice starts sounding sniffly. Tessa supposes she’s not the only one feeling emotional at this moment that feels both impossibly big and impossibly small. “I thought you were talking about some lovely guy that you just met, some sophisticate who’s managed to sweep you off your feet. That’s why I made the excuse of leaving early. I didn’t think I could handle it at that moment.

“Let me be clear though. I meant what I said. I want you to be happy with whoever makes you happiest. I guess I’m lucky that it’s me?” Scott’s tone goes up at the end, sounding unsure.

Tessa’s quick to reassure. “You make me the happiest, Scott. I thought you had figured out that I was in love with you! That’s why you bolted like a scared horse during our walk today. Because you had figured it out and you had felt uncomfortable.”

Scott shakes his head, “No, that wasn’t it. If I had figured that out from what you said. I wouldn’t have bolted. I would have probably kissed you senseless in the middle of Montreal, regardless of who was around.”

Tessa laughs, “Maybe it’s lucky you didn’t then.” She pitches her voice lower as she murmurs, “So what’s that about kissing me senseless?”

Instead of answering her, Tessa realises that Scott’s more willing to show her instead.

In the morning after, when she wakes up next to Scott, nuzzled into his warmth, she thinks about the step-by-step process that she thought would successfully get her to fall out of love with him.

She’s lucky that it’s only made her fall more for someone who was just waiting to catch her.


End file.
